


Medieval Times

by MaJackles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-20 23:04:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6028737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaJackles/pseuds/MaJackles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written in response to the prompt "Trapped in Metal"...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Medieval Times

Dean limped into the small tent just as his cell phone started ringing. His clothes were hanging on a rack among many other outfits. He started pawing through the hangers, eventually finding his. He dug into the pocket of his pants, flipped up his visor, and pulled out his phone. “Yo?”

“Dean! I found it! Finally found the hex bag. You okay?” Sam's voice came through, full of worry and out of breath.

“No problem, little brother. That guy won't be hurting anyone else...ever. Felicia okay?” Felicia was the latest target on some lackey witch's agenda. He had gone darkside and was using his new found powers to off people he didn't like. Felicia had been the dude's babysitter...fifteen years ago!

“Yeah, yeah. She's good. A little freaked out, but she'll be fine.”

“Okay. Awesome. Listen, Sammy, give me some time to get changed and I'll meet you in the side parking lot, okay?”

“Sure thing, Dean. I'll be there in about ten minutes.”

They hung up and Dean looked down at himself. Time to get this get up off. He leaned his head out of the tent. “Yo, Jeff! A little help?” A guy about a year or two younger than Dean hurried over and bowed at the waist. “Jeff, dude, can you help me get out of this?”

Jeff came into the tent with him. “The name is Jeffery, good sir and I don't fully understand thy speech, but I would gladly help you out of your armor, Sir knight.” He went behind him and unhooked the clasps that attached his helmet to the thing around his neck and lifted it off Dean's head.

“Holy hell, it's hot in there!” Dean exclaimed after getting the helmet off. Dean's hair was sticking up at crazy angles from the sweat. He looked around and saw a small stool and plunked himself down on it.

Jeff came around front and worked with Dean at getting all the bits and pieces off his arms and shoulders. He worked his way back around Dean again and started unhooking the buckles at the top of his shoulders, on his breast plate. “Please raise your arms, good sir.” He said as he came round to his side.

Dean chuckled to himself. “You talk like that to your mother?”

“I'm sorry, sir?”

“Never mind.” He raised his arms up and rested his hands on top of his head, giving Jeff access to the buckles at his sides.

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“It appears, sir knight...” Jeff made a face and went around to look at the buckles on the other side. “It appears that the lower buckles have taken some damage and there are several dents in your breast plate and fauld.”

“Well that would explain the uncomfortable pinching in my ribs and abs.” Dean winced as Jeff tugged at the buckle.

“Good sir, it doesn't seem to want to come loose.”

“Well I can't wear this tin can home, Jeff...”

“At ease, goodly knight. I shall fetch the blacksmith. They will have the tools to get you out of your fine armor.” Jeff bowed again and left the tent.

Dean sighed, stood up and stretched as well as he could. The dents poking into his ribs made themselves known. He checked himself out in the mirror that stood in the corner of the tent. He could get used to this. The one time he dressed in costume, helping out Charlie, was a blast. This whole full armor thing was badass, though. He worked on the buckle on his sword belt and was just pulling it and his broad sword off when he heard the flaps on the tent rustle.

He was completely caught off guard by the vision before him. To use the term of the day, the wench was an eye full. Instead of the usual full skirt, this one was wearing pants with leather boots that came up and over her knees to mid thigh. She still had the corset thing, though, and her breasts looked like they were soon to make good on their escape. Her hair was light brown with flashes of blonde and it was pulled back into a long braid with a thin leather headband tied around her forehead. She carried a tied up roll of cloth that she promptly lay on the ground and unrolled, revealing several tools.

“Hey beautiful, you helping the blacksmith out today?” Dean asked with his customary half smirk.

She sighed as she looked over the tools and replied without bothering to look up at him. “I am the blacksmith, you fool. So, busted buckles and some dents?” She stood back up and finally looked at him and her breath caught in her throat.

“I have that effect on the ladies.” Dean said with a wink.

“Oh good lord. Just come over here, good knight.”

“Oh, I love it when ya get all flowery with me.” Dean said as he sauntered over to her as best he could in full plate armor.

“Raise your arms, please.” She said with a hint of an eye roll.

Dean raised his arms and locked his fingers together behind his head, possibly flexing his biceps a bit as he did so. She took no notice, though, as she was quite focused on the armor. The smell of wood smoke wafted off of her as she moved around below him and he found it oddly intoxicating.

“So, how long have you been a blacksmith? Didn't think it was a girl thing to do.”

“My papa has been teaching me the craft since I was a child. And no, it's not generally a “girl's thing” but I have proven my skill more than enough around the likes of you.” She was slipping out of her medieval language as she focused on the task at hand.

“Whoa. The likes of me? Listen, sweetheart, this was my first and probably last time doing something like this, okay?”

“Ahh, I see. Not cut out to be an honorable knight? Too hard for you?”

Dean groaned. “No. It's nothing like that. I was here working a job and had to be in costume in order to, ah, reach my objective.”

“Seriously? You sound all cloak and dagger. I think you have the wrong festival.”

“You're hilarious.” Dean said, sarcastically.

“I like to think so. Okay, here's the problem. This crease here...” she pointed to a long dent in his armor. “this one that goes from your side down to the middle of your belly? It has put a crease in the armor and right through the buckle. I'm going to need to get the crease out to release the buckle. This may take some time. Hope you don't have any plans.” She looked him square in the face for the first time since entering the tent and couldn't seem to pull her eyes from his.

Dean winked at her again. “No plans, sweetheart."

His wink broke whatever spell was holding her and she turned and bent to her tools. The desire to swat the wench's behind was almost too powerful for Dean to resist. He pulled his hand back and was just coming in for the slap when she turned. He quickly changed course and brought his hand up and scratched the scruff on his chin. She grinned at him.

“Just keep your arms up and out of the way, thanks. And you wouldn't be the first to make a play for my ass, good sir. You don't want to see the last man who tried, understood?” She held up some wicked looking, archaic tools and delivered a wicked grin in his direction.

“Yes ma'am.” Dean answered with a chuckle.

“I'm going to remove these tassets's. Give myself better access.” She unhooked some small buckles and removed the plates of metal that dangled down over his thighs. “So, what is it you do, um...”

“Dean.”

“What is it you do Sir Dean, when not out slaying the mighty dragons from our lands?” she asked and knelt on the grass before him.

Dean thought about his answer and thought he should stay in character as long as he was still on the premises. “Well, um I never caught your name...”

“Cassandra. Lady Cass around here.”

“Well, Lady Cass.” Dean said with a slight chuckle. “I'm FBI. Here on a CASE!” His voice went high and loud as he sucked in a surprised breath. She had reached a hand up under the armor, grazing by the royal jewels. Dean wasn't sure if the slight touch was on purpose or just part of her doing her job.

“FBI, huh?” She said with a chuckle of her own. Oh it was so on purpose, the naughty little wench! “I can honestly say, I have never met any Feds before. They make them all as big and strapping as you?”

She was moving her hand around under the breast plate, feeling the armor from the under side, while she worked with some sort of tool on the outside. She was dangerously close to his groin and her hand moving around down there was doing things he was sure to be embarrassed about later. It was making it difficult to carry on a rational conversation. “What? Oh, um, no. I'm one of a kind, darling. Although my partner is the jolly green giant.” He added with a nervous chuckle. He could feel himself growing hard with all her movements down there and shifted his weight, trying to conceal it.

Lady Cass gave a low laugh under her breath. She knew exactly what she was doing to him. “You know, being a woman, in this line of work, has it's benefits. I get to work with the armor that I love and I get to get up close and personal to big, strong men like yourself.” She moved further away from the side buckle and closer toward his groin. “Don't move around too much, Sir Dean, I wouldn't want to hurt you.” She looked up at him with a sly grin and threw a wink of her own at him.

Her hand moved under the armor ever closer until she was working right above his crotch. He soon lost his battle with his self control and sprang to full attention. He could feel the thin pants he wore under the armor stretching tight. With the armor on this thighs, there wasn't a lot of room for...other things...down there. He raised his eyes from her cleavage, which was a beautiful sight from above, to the roof of the tent. Trying desperately to regain control.

“Your sword seems to be getting in the way, down here, Sir Dean...” She looked up at him, biting her lower lip in an attempt to hide a smile.

“Fuck me.” Dean said under his breath. “You almost done down there?” He groaned. Just as he asked it, there was the sound of something snapping and she was pulling the breast plate off of him. She stood back, taking him in. The under armor shirt they gave him to wear under the armor...hehe...fitting name...was quite tight and form fitting. He lowered his arms and the muscles in his chest and abs rippled beneath the shirt. He reached down and pulled the shirt off over his head, giving her the full show.

The breast plate clunked to the ground and she dropped her tools to the cloth behind her. When she looked back, he was right there. Dean reached around her and pulled her in for a kiss. With all the teasing he'd been through, he had no patience left. She reached up and grabbed his upper arms, matching his fervor. He grabbed her braided hair and wrapped it around his hand, using it to hold her head.

As their tongues wrestled, she pushed him backwards across the tent until his legs clinked against the stool. She let go of his arms and trailed her fingers down his chest, reaching down to his pants. They were just thin elastic-topped things given to him to wear as a bit of padding beneath the armor. She hooked her fingers into the elastic and pulled them down over the cuisses, the armor plates on his thighs.

She slowly kissed her way down his chest and abdomen and then licked up the underside of his cock, making him gasp and grip her braid even tighter. “My you are well armed, good sir.” She said and then proceeded to take the whole of his 'sword' into her mouth. Dean's eyes rolled back into his head and he leaned forward into her.

“Damn it, you naughty wench!” He pulled her back up by her braid and helped her breasts make good their escape. He caressed them ever so gently, causing her nipples to harden. He then kissed and suckled them; nipped and bit them, until she was panting. He looked down at her pants and paused. He wasn't sure how to loosen them. They weren't your typical button flies.

She gave a small chuckle and reached down and undid a few snaps, releasing a flap of fabric that ran right down her front and through her crotch. “Getting these thigh high boots down every time I have to use the privy is a bitch.” she said by way of explanation.

“Works for me.” Dean murmured and reached down to say hello. She gasped and pushed him down to the stool behind him. She leaned forward and he grabbed her breasts, burying his face in their softness. She straddled his legs and lowered herself down until he was buried to the hilt within her. He held her at her waist and she began to rock on his lap. “You're well practiced at your craft, Lady Cass.” Dean gasped as she continued to move.

He nibbled and sucked on her breasts and moved up her neck to her mouth. She grabbed the sides of his face in a forceful grip and kissed him back with abandon. Her head then whipped back and she let out a moan. “Oh God, Sir Dean! You know how to handle that sword!”

Dean moaned out his own orgasm and then laughed. “Seriously?”

She smiled at him. Kissed him. Leaned down and flicked his nipple with her tongue. “Just trying to stay in character.”

“Uh huh.”

“I hate to make this short, but I do have other duties to attend to, good knight.” She slowly stood up and adjusted her corset, restraining her beautiful breasts once again. Dean gave a heavy sigh. She re-snapped the fabric on her pants, lowered another flap of fabric into place, and you never would have known she had been up to no good with the good Sir Dean.

He stood up and pulled his pants back up as she collected her tools. She turned back, gave him one last passionate kiss and then turned to the tent flap. “I'll send Jeff back in to help with the rest.” She winked and was gone.

Jeffery came in a minute or two later, all chipper and smiles. “I see the blacksmith was able to get you out, sir knight.”

“Oh, you ain't kiddin! Chick knows her stuff!” Dean clapped Jeff on the back, practically knocking him over.

Between the two of them they got the rest of the armor off his legs and feet. Dean got back into his suit and headed down to the side parking lot. Sam was already there, waiting.

Dean hopped into the seat and rested his head back against the top of it with a contented sigh.

“What took you so long? I've been sitting here for half an hour?!” Sam asked.

“What can I say, Sammy? Those suits of armor are a bitch to get out of.”


End file.
